


From the murk of my dreams, I am called back to you

by ardskelling



Series: The Tales of Twin Serpents [1]
Category: For Honor (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardskelling/pseuds/ardskelling
Summary: Late nights have always proven to be cumbersome, for the shadows hide many secrets that should have been left uncovered. Yet Hertha always ensures that her love is safe and secure.
Relationships: Aiya/Hertha, Nobushi/ Female Jormungandr
Series: The Tales of Twin Serpents [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703539
Kudos: 5





	From the murk of my dreams, I am called back to you

**Author's Note:**

> “No bounds does this love know, for I would bring the earth to thine feet, should ye bid me so. I would sunder mountains and level all the sea to be right, should ye ask of me such.” -Late nights have always proven to be cumbersome, for the shadows hide many secrets that should have been left uncovered. Yet Hertha always ensures that her love is safe and secure.

Aiya is  _ not  _ delicate. Despite her lithe frame and short stature, despite her quietness and her doll-like features, she is not as fragile as some would perceive. Beneath the billowing and elegant uniform she wears, beneath the stoic and steely mask of the Nobushi, there lies skin as hard as stone and beneath even that, lies a heart of iron. And yet, even when she is in battle, fighting amongst the Chosen, to protect Samurai lands and its people, there is something that will always strike fear within her. Though she is so very mortal and fleshy and has blood in her veins, she had seen enough death to last entire lifetimes. Still, even after all of that fighting, never had the threat of war concerned her until now. There is something that haunts the woman, pressing ghastly fingers into her mind, taunting and oh-so-close to her at all times. It is the fear of being alone again. She had never quite seen anything like  _ her _ . Hertha, the woman who holds her heart, born different among the warrior-sons of a place cole and desolate, is an exile and a pariah. She wades confidently into battle, armed with nothing but her wits and her hamarr. She was uncertain at first, growing fiercely protective over the Viking woman, and when her lover brought to light that she would protect her at any and all costs, the Nobushi was not so quick to agree. The words were in her native tongue, one that Aiya herself spent years perfecting, perhaps solely for this single moment.

_ “Ég mun vernda þig.”  _

And for once in a very long time, the words do not fall shallow on her ears. She could hear the passion behind that promise, the unyielding conviction that drove Hertha on for so very long. And in that moment, as her mind worked over that promise made to her, Aiya knew that it was truer than anything else in the world.

_ I don’t need protection.  _ It is the sentence that catches just on the edge of her tongue, it dies within her mouth and perhaps it is a vulnerability that rests within her own soul. And then, the sentence shifts, it becomes something quiet and not wholly there, a numbly said, ‘ _ Alright’. _

The relenting heart she had developed for the warrior put any doubts she had aside, for a moment. Hertha was, in fact, very capable of handling herself, of that much Aiya was certain. And the truth was that she would love nothing more than to march on to battle beside the Viking, bringing war to those that dared to try and quell the fire in their hearts. Still, that eagerness Hertha had to fight and kill, without any protection, it terrified her. To lose the only person she had left… It would be unthinkable, unimaginable. It would be a day where the Gods themselves turned their gaze as the world grew dark, crashing down around her. There is always the threat of a loose blade, Aiya knew that well. She had lost some of those that were closest to her, lost them to Blackstones and Warborn alike. Her heart became one of stone, wishing for distance between those she knew. The pain of losing a friend is agonising enough, so why should she bother to even think of growing close to another? And when she thought she finally had made herself safe and secure, that she had erected enough walls to dampen the brunt of the loneliness that came with being isolated, the unthinkable happened. Whether their meeting was chance or fate: she did not know. Like a spear going right through her and her self-built walls of emotional protection, in barged Hertha, like some godly bear, storming through the barriers of her mind, invading every thought, not with malevolence, but with something so much  _ lighter _ . The control she thought she had of her life spiraled away from her in a matter of days, because she had a bit of sympathy for the woman who got herself thrown into a Daimyo’s prison ward. All she had built up, ridding herself of friends and confidants, cutting out those who may have mattered to a softer woman, all had been for naught. And she was not complaining, by all the Gods, Hertha’s sudden appearance helped mend her bleeding heart. But if this stranger was able to push past all of the stony expressions and the cool, distant grunts of speech, then why did she choose to try and push people away in the first place? It is a question that still haunts her, makes itself known on sleepless nights, the infernal question that causes her mind to become seeded with  _ what-ifs? _ .

She was filled with the need to wonder if the world would finally be right after all this fighting, if she had made the just and right decision in wielding the blade, if her path was true and certain as she travelled along it. She had killed a great many men and many women, took away parents and children simply because she wanted a better world. She had the luxury of choosing her life or theirs and it conflicted her to no end. The second guessing she had so very often would kill her more efficiently than a mighty and well-sharpened pole-axe. Her mind reels and unravels and Aiya is certain that she does not know, staring up at the blackness of her ceiling, enthralled with her own thoughts. And then, she is called back to earth, to the present, where an arm is heavy upon her, draped over her chest and there is her woman pressed firmly to her back. There is breathing at the back of her neck, gentle and tickling and causing her body to grow just a tad warmer. The heat emanating off of the body just behind her, the sound of her slumbering quietly in the early hours of the morning puts her mind at ease, even just slightly. Then her eyes close, and she is filled with peace, because she finds then that it is better this way and that even when facing the pain of her past choices, Hertha’s love would sustain her, above all else.


End file.
